


Worship

by Pernilla_Writes



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: (very briefly) - Freeform, Breeding, Cock Worship, Come Eating, Come Inflation, Come Swallowing, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, ForestGod!Geralt, Inspired by Fanart, Kind of a plot? you'd be surprised., M/M, Male Lactation, Mpreg, NSFW, Size Difference, Size Kink, huge cock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-22
Updated: 2020-04-22
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:21:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,229
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23779072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pernilla_Writes/pseuds/Pernilla_Writes
Summary: Jaskier escapes from his noble family and gets lost in an ancient forest, the gigantic god that guards it observes him form the shadows.This work is a gift to the wonderful @SharkFaceOhHaHa and inspired by the amazing @reapersun_art on twitter!
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 14
Kudos: 811





	Worship

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Symbolic_Deviant](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Symbolic_Deviant/gifts).



The forest was old, Jaskier could feel it in the trees towering above his head and the grass below his feet, the cloak of night shrouded his surroundings in darkness, and he knew was terribly lost.

There was an eerie silence around him, the birds had fallen asleep and most of the animals out at night were silent predators, slowly stalking their prey, the only ones Jaskier was worried about at that moment were those of his same kind.  
He had escaped his family, the stifling treachery of nobility and rank, and ran away with only his lute on his back, his most prized possession. He had no hopes or prospects for his future, but he prayed that the guards that were doubtlessly chasing him down would not follow him in the dark woods.

Unbeknownst to him two eyes were observing him warily, yellow and slitted. Geralt was the god of the Rivia forest, he had taken care of it for millennia, defending it from humans and sorcerers in search of power and fame. The forest was powerful, brimming with old magic, and Geralt would protect it to his last breath.

Elves had built him altars and temples, but when humans had arrived into their world they became too preoccupied with war and famine, only a few still worshipped him, but Geralt didn’t care, for his power came from the forest, not the people around it.

And so, he observed the weird, small human, still hidden in the shadows, unsure of its motives.

Jaskier sat down for the night, he was tired, cold, and his feet hurt, blistered in his uncomfortable but pretty shoes. He had found a hollow tree trunk to hide and settle in for the night, hugging himself for warmth as his bones ached in exhaustion.

He was just about to fall asleep when he saw two golden eyes staring at him from the darkness, they were big and like that of a viper, a predatory air about them. He stayed silent and didn’t move, there was no doubt that he was being observed by that alien stare. The eyes seemed intelligent, aware, calculating, and Jaskier was terrified by them.

A huge figure started moving, the ground rumbling under its steps, the creature loomed over him, still cloaked in darkness, his form anthropomorphic. A huge hand reached into the small crevice where Jaskier had taken refuge and plucked him out with ease, as if the tree itself had parted for the gigantic fingers to slip in.

The hand lifted him into the air, completely enveloping his waist, and Jaskier tried to wiggle out, but it’s grip was as gentle as it was firm. There was no chance to escape.

“Human,” a deep voice rumbled, it sounded like thunder on a clear sky “what brings you to my forest?”

Jaskier was shaking like a leaf, his heart beating faster than it ever had.

“I- I’m so sorry! I didn’t know this was your forest-” he said in a frightened tone, he felt himself tear up “I was just passing through!”

Geralt looked at him, narrowing his eyes, his pupils widened as he tried to take in the human’s face better in the moonlight. The god saw the boyish features, the dark hair and the big blue eyes, the soft lips and pale skin. The human was a tiny thing of beauty, and Geralt suddenly felt the need to protect him like he protected the rest of his forest.

“You’re afraid.” Geralt’s cold voice rippled through the night.

“I am...” Jaskier responded, meekly “I escaped from a cruel home, and sought refuge in your forest. I didn’t mean to anger you.” The human was trying to sound secure, but his voice was wavering, the trauma of the day past catching up to him.

“... I understand.” The god said with a sort of finality, nodding.

“Then you are part of this forest, it will protect you as long as you respect it.”

Jaskier breathed in a small gasp, he had heard the stories as a child, of the protector of the forest, the giant with silver hair and golden tattoos, and suddenly he knew who he was speaking to.

“You’re the ancient God of the Rivia forest, Geralt...” The bard could have sworn he saw a flash of white fangs in the night as the god smirked.

“That is my name and my title. Now come, little human. I will take you to my temple, you need warmth and food, you lack the fur and claws of the creatures that live here, and need the help.”

Jaskier nodded, still dumbstruck, and let the god take him away, still gripped in the big and powerful hand as he were nothing but a ragdoll.

The temple was a lonely palace in the middle of the forest, it was made of old crumbling stone, but somehow looked sturdy and impenetrable, vines and roots had taken over most of the huge structure. Geralt had no trouble fitting inside it, all of the furniture made for someone three times the size of a normal man, the hall was warm, a fire roaring alive in an alcove carved in the wall, it’s warm light illuminated everything it touched.

Geralt finally let Jaskier go on a pile of furs, and the bard got his first true look at the good before him, the light coming from the fire place outlined a muscular body, scars running all over it, beautiful and intricate golden lines tattooed on the pale skin. Geralt was huge, hairy, and-

Jaskier turned bright red.

A huge cock hanged limp between the God’s legs, easily as big as Jaskier’s thigh, and the human gasped in awe, it was the biggest he had ever seen, and it made his mouth water. He wanted to kiss it, rub himself all over its hardness until it covered him in cum, and he would lick it off in worship, in adoration of his god.

He could feel himself growing harder in his own trousers so he crossed his legs, squirming, pushing down on his erection and balls, and the god sniffed the air, his face getting closer to him, two massive hands spread his legs apart like it was nothing, as if Jaskier’s resistance wasn’t even there, and Geralt started scenting his crotch, rubbing his huge face into the space between the bard’s limbs.

Jaskier moaned out, his face red in embarrassment and arousal, it was- humiliating and weirdly sexy. But he didn’t have time to consider that as Geralt took hold of his clothes, pinching the fabric in his fingers, intent of taking them off or, more likely, ripping them from his body.

“Wait! Stop!”

Jaskier cried out, he liked those clothes and he couldn’t quite understand what was happening, his mind in a slight haze, a sort of arousal that bordered on drunkenness.

Geralt looked down at him, and Jaskier noticed that the god was also hard, his erection was... huge, damp at the tip. And he wanted it so bad, wanted it inside of him, filling him up to the brim. He didn’t care that it would hurt or if it was even possible for something that big to be in him, but-

“You smell ready to mate...” The god spoke carefully. “Don’t you want to?”

Jaskier paled, his chest heaving. He did want it, but he was also tired, and in need of food. And now that he was thinking more rationally that- thing- was really too big for him to pleasure in any way. Sex with a god was dangerous, there were legends upon legends of fragile humans like him ending up broken in the hands of these gods of old, and he didn’t want to be part of those stories.

“Not now, my lord. I am tired from my travels and I need rest...” He didn’t want to anger Geralt, he could kill him without a second thought. The forest god for his part looked at him and nodded before gesturing to the pile of furs. “Then sleep. I’ll get some food for when you wake.” Jaskier shook his head. “There is no need, when I wake I’ll leave the forest.”

Geralt looked taken aback by that.

“Leave? To go where? This forest accepted you, protected you from your past, now you are part of it, and I must take care of you. There are places for a human to live in this temple, it used to be full of servants and priests, you could take their mantle.”

Jaskier looked at Geralt in shock. It was true that he didn’t know where to go, but becoming a God’s servant... “I can’t be a priest, I’m not a religious man, I’m not made for this- “

“But you are.” Geralt interrupted him “You smelled ready to be bred, you look at me and see your mate. This is your role, the role of a priest, to carry their god’s children. To be their mate.”

And suddenly Jaskier understood why he was feeling like that, why he wanted Geralt so bad, but he still felt scared and unsure.

“I’m not- you know, I’m a man. I can’t have your children.” He tried to reason, mostly to himself, but Geralt shook his head.

“This forest is ancient and full of power. And it’s time I found a mate. I always refused those that came before, but you smell just right. And the forest will make your body suitable for bearing my children.”

Jaskier felt his thighs shake, the thought of getting bred by that big cook, taking all of that cum inside of him and creating life, it was maddening.

“I’ll get you some food for tomorrow, now rest. I’ll make sure you’ll be comfortable here, you’ll want for nothing, you’ll be safe and happy. I can promise that.” Geralt said before standing up, his erection somewhat subsided.

Jaskier’s day of travel caught up with him, and he was asleep as soon as he closed his eyes.

.  
.  
.

The morning greeted him with the smell of sweet pastries and roasted meats. A bowl filled with some truly beautiful fruit sat next to the furs, as big as anything else in the temple, he reached in and bit on an apple, the juices ran down his chin and he moaned out, it was tart and sweet and absolutely perfect.

“You’re awake.”

Geralt’s voice was heavy and deep. It sounded as if the god was trying to be approachable, less terrifyingly inhuman for him. He was sitting on the steps that led to the main altar, his form just as naked as the day before. The light coming in from the windows reflected off the gold of his tattoos as if they were truly made out of that precious metal. Two wolf ears, that he hadn’t noticed before, sat on top of his head, facing forward and listening to his every breath, as white as the hair on the God’s head.

“I am... my lord.” He said, leaving the half-eaten apple in the bowl. He remembered the conversation from the night before and shuddered in anticipation.

“Are you going to accept this position? Become my priest, my mate?”

Jaskier could only nod. The god’s eyes were like slits, widening the more he looked at Jaskier, swallowing the gold of his iris in black.

“Yes. I want to be your mate.” He finally said. He wanted it more than he could have ever put into words, the need to worship the being before him, to please him, was stronger than any other want he had ever had.

Jaskier undressed, his doublet and undershirt coming off easily, his slight and skinny frame exposed to the cold air, his trousers and underwear didn’t take long after that. Geralt was looking at him, lust and hunger in his gaze, a feral need, a ferocious want. He bared his sharp fangs and sniffed at the other again, Jaskier’s cock throbbed as the god’s tongue lapped at it, completely covering his pelvis.

“You taste ready.”

And Jaskier was. He was as ready as he had been for anything in his life. The god’s huge erection was right in front of him, and Jaskier stepped forward and kissed the tip, tasting the pre-come that had beaded on there. It was musky and salty and he needed more.

He wrapped his arms around the huge cock, pressed his chest and his own erection against it, and started rubbing himself on it, licking and kissing it, making soft needy noises each time his cheek brushed up against a vein. He lowered himself down on the shaft and kissed the base of it, licking a small stripe upwards and kissing it again. Giving small kitty licks all the while.

The god hummed in approval. “Such a good mate. You want my come, don’t you?”

Jaskier nodded feverishly, he needed to be covered in the god’s come, needed to be filled with it. Jaskier felt his knees buckle as he gave one last languid motion against the other’s warm erection, his cock coming in small white spurts.

Geralt didn’t let him fall. He held the bard’s body against his erection with one hand, pressing him there, fitting his fingers around them both, and he started to move Jaskier’s body on his cock, up and down, faster and faster, using him for his own pleasure, and Jaskier could only moan and beg as he felt the huge erection under him throb, without warning he was laid on the furs once again, and then-

Hot sticky liquid poured over him, covering his entire face, he shuddered in pleasure as his whole body was coated in it and he licked his lips, frantically reaching with his hand to his mouth, sucking the fingers clean. It was delicious and intoxicating, and he wanted it all inside of him. Geralt watched him lick himself clean in silence, clearly enjoying the boy’s enthusiasm. He wasn’t sure what to think when he first saw him, dressed in fine silks and waking trough his forest, but now, covered in come while naked, cleaning it off himself and swallowing every drop he could- he knew Jaskier was his mate.

He bent down as soon as Jaskier seemed to be done with his own body and had started trying to gather the few drops of come that had dribbled on the furs, and gripped him tightly in his hand, not so hard as to hurt him, but enough to make him only able to squirm.

“Now I’ll prepare you to be bred. I want you open for me, begging to be filled with my offspring.”

Jaskier cried out and started trying to free himself from Geralt’s grip, he wanted the god’s cock again, he wanted to taste his come again, how had he lived until then without it? How he was ever going to survive again without?

Geralt used his other hand to take one of Jaskier’s legs and spread it, and started licking at Jaskier’s hole. The huge tongue on him made the poor human scream, the hot wetness of it, licking him open, was excruciating. And when it went away too soon he keenly missed its weight. But then he felt his leg being dropped and the same hand pinching his genitals between two fingers, pushing them aside to get a better look at his now dripping opening.

“Most of your wetness is coming from inside... you’re made for this. The magic here only awakened it.”

Jaskier couldn’t understand a word of what Geralt was saying, he just needed to be filled, luckily he didn’t have to wait much longer. Still holding him with one hand at the waist Geralt slowly started lowering Jaskier on his huge cock, and the bard screamed in pleasure.

“Oh my god! Thank you, thank you my lord… ah- for filling me up with cock-” Finally, finally he was getting what he had always needed, what made him complete, and he needed more, each inch that got inside of him only made him crave to be stuffed fuller, he didn’t notice the bump on his belly, growing as Geralt pushed deeper into him, the only thing Jaskier knew was that he now had purpose, that now he was happy.

Geralt bottomed out. Jaskier’s skin was stretched obscenely around the erection inside of him, his own small cook bobbing against his once flat belly. He looked absolutely ruined, no human cook could ever satisfy him now, he was the forest god’s bitch, and he would never be able to pass off an anything else ever again.

Geralt released his grip on him to caress his back for only a moment, before wrapping his hand around him and using him like a flashlight, moving him up and down his cock, Jaskier was drooling, strings of saliva dripping from his chin to his bare chest, his eyes crossed and mind blank, the only thing of importance was his god’s cock, and the cum that would soon stuff him silly.

Geralt growled deep as he picked up the rhythm, Jaskier could feel the enormous thing inside of him, stretching him out and splitting him open, but he could only feel pleasure, and he came with a small whimper, his eyes were wet and his nose runny, he was about to die of pleasure, his cock twitched but would never get hard again, his body knew Jaskier didn’t need it anymore.

And then he felt it, inside of him, warmth and then fullness. His belly stretched bigger and bigger, at first like after a good meal and then more, as if he was pregnant, and he felt the lovely musk of Geralt’s come in the back of his throat, tasted it on his tongue, and felt the blissful peacefulness of an empty mind, only taken with pleasure and sensation.

Geralt was panting above him, his pupils still blown wide as he looked at Jaskier like he was the most precious human to ever exist, and to him he was.

Jaskier’s stomach sloshed and Geralt pulled him off of himself, and the bard whined pitifully at the loss, as soon as the god’s spent cock slipped out of his loose hole a stream of come started dripping between his thighs, and Jaskier reached down on himself with the last of his strength to gather as much as he could and lick it off his fingers.

Geralt’s chest rumbled, a pleased expression on his face, and Jaskier was proud to be the one who put it there.

.  
.  
.

Months later Jaskier was still at the temple, sheer white fabric covered his body, hiding nothing from his god’s hungry gaze. His belly was incredibly swollen, only a child grew inside but it looked as if he was carrying triplets close to term, and there were still two months left for the baby to grow, his nipples were big and dark, his chest full of milk, leaking constantly and wetting the front of his pretty dress, not that Geralt or Jaskier minded, it was just one more way for Jaskier to give himself to Geralt, to feel his tongue on his chest as he licked him clean.

Geralt looked at Jaskier, too big with child to move, sprawled out on top of his furs, and promised himself he would never let him go.

**Author's Note:**

> All of you who enjoyed this say thank you to u/Symbolic_Deviant because he's the reason this exists!
> 
> Also go check out the art that inspired the piece: https://twitter.com/reapersun_art/status/1245727690587430912?s=12
> 
> Follow me on Twitter @PernillaWrites for more Witcher goodness :3


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